Sugar On The Asphalt
by RainyDayz
Summary: When House bums a ride home from Chase, neither one of them expected to take such a steep detour. Trapped in a car with only one another for company in freezing temperatures, they begin to wonder what will kill them first. The cold or each other.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone. I'm honestly very surprised to find myself back here. I didn't think I would be writing another fanfic so soon. I had my doubts that I would do another House fic, but low and behold - here I am. I thank you all for the reviews for Just Like Sunny Days We Ignore and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this one as well. This plot bunny showed up a few days ago and I chased it around the house for quite some time before slamming it onto a keyboard and dissecting it into parts. D It was a long, bloody process, but here it is. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D. or any characters/products in association with said series. If you decide to sue me, you'll find yourself in the possession of a lot of bird food and perhaps several used tissues…

Song is Walter Reed, by Michael Penn

… … … … … … …

_Count the cases piled up high_

_For the one-fifteen_

_The platform meant for passerby_

_It's the same routine_

Gregory House was not a happy man right now. However, many would swear in court that he was never a happy man.

His beautiful bike, his one true love, had failed to start not five minutes ago, thus foiling his escape plan. He stalked down the hallway, eyes prowling from left to right as he peered through the glass walls for a potential victim to mooch off of.

He knew that two out of three of his ducklings had gone home for the night and he would bet anything that it was Chase who was still haunting the halls of PPTH. His loyalty to the ICU kept him on a short leash.

He continued searching relentlessly.

… … … … … … … …

Robert Chase had reached exhaustion and gone far beyond it tonight. He stumbled around the conference room in a drunken stupor, snatching his messenger bag off the coat rack and slinging it over his aching shoulders.

He grabbed his incomplete crossword from that morning and stuffed it into his bag. He straightened up and was turning when a familiarly grating voice penetrated both sleep fog and glass wall.

"Wombat!"

Chase rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed, catching sight of the older man out in the hallway.

"House," he called through the glass. "I'm going home. My shift is over. No exceptions."

The diagnostician pushed the door open and leaned his upper body into the room.

"My bike won't start. You're taking me home."

Chase groaned.

"Make Wilson do it. I'm too tired for pit stops."

"Wilson went home early to pretend that his wife is speaking to him. Now let's go home, Alfred."

The utterly lost expression that pasted itself onto the Aussie's face told House all he needed to know.

"You never watched Batman as a kid, did you?"

"I preferred Boomerang cartoons."

"Typical. Homeward, James!"

The Intensivist conceded defeat and led the way to the elevator. House smiled triumphantly as the doors slid closed and leaned back against the wall, twirling his cane, barely avoiding smacking the young Aussie in the head.

They reached the ground level and stepped out of the hospital into a biting and snow covered evening.

The blonde pulled his coat tighter around himself and motioned for House to follow. The older man did so, noticing the Aussie's ill hidden attempts at controlling his shivers.

"You're a pansy. You've lived here how long and you still haven't gotten used to winter?"

Chase threw him a long suffering look and fished his car keys out of his pocket, jamming them into the lock hastily and jumping into the driver's seat. He leaned over the passenger side and opened the door for House. The other man settled himself in and grinned at his fellow.

"Couldn't afford a technologically advanced automobile?"

The Aussie glared and started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main street.

"Not very chatty this evening, are we, Robert?"

Chase glanced at House from the corner of his eye.

"House, I'm cold, I'm tired, and I just want to go home. Now where do you live?"

"Ah, cranky too. Turn here."

It was quiet for a few minutes before House went back to aggravating his youngest duckling.

"You should be wearing your seatbelt, young man."

Chase turned to glare at his passenger.

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you. And you're not wearing yours, either."

The older man huffed and strapped his belt on, clicking it into place.

"Happy? Now it's your turn."

Chase rolled his eyes and reached for the strap, hair falling into his eyes as his head turned from the road. He had the belt in his right hand, pulling it down to secure it, eyes having returned to looking out the windshield when a car came screeching into his lane from the left.

The young Intensivist yanked the wheel to the right, swerving to avoid a collision. His car hydroplaned wildly on the slick road and he could hear House's blatant insults flying about faster than he had ever heard them, but he was focused on trying to keep all four wheels on the asphalt.

The car that had driven into his lane was skidding next to him, swerving uncontrollably until it finally nose dived into the driver's side of Chase's car. The Aussie distantly felt the door press into his side, but was further distracted as he realized that his car was actually _rolling _now. And downhill, of all things.

House felt his head impact with the window and pain lanced through his skull as the automobile continued its unscheduled trip down a snowy incline, finally landing upside down in a shallow body of water.

The diagnostician sat for a long moment, blinking repeatedly and thanking God that he'd put his seatbelt on before --

His eyes snapped open wide and a lump colder than the icy water surrounding the car settled in his stomach.

He looked to his left, where Chase should have been hanging upside down in the driver's seat, but the blonde Aussie was curiously absent.

"Chase? Chase!"

He whipped his head around, the movement sending spikes of pain through his temples, but he was far more occupied with finding his desperately missing fellow.

His eyes landed on a lump of clothing and a shock of golden hair in the back of the car. The young Intensivist's body was flung haphazardly across the ceiling. The boy was on his stomach, one arm stretched out by his head while the other was trapped under his chest. His eyes were closed.

"Chase! Wake up!"

The Aussie didn't respond and House cursed several times, yanking his seatbelt off and letting himself fall onto the roof with a thump. His leg ached fiercely as he crawled into the back, making his way over to the prone side of his youngest duckling.

He pressed two fingers into the young man's throat and breathed an audible sigh of relief when he felt an erratically slow pulse. He resisted the urge to move the blonde, but he felt along the boy's spinal cord for any breaks. So far, so good.

A weak, muffled noise caught his attention and he looked back to Chase's face. Two blue-green eyes glittered under half opened eyelids.

"Stop…poking me," the Aussie mumbled.

House scooted back a little and propped himself against the side of the car.

"Just making sure you haven't been irreversibly maimed. 'Wouldn't want another me wandering the halls of PPTH, now would we?"

"God forbid," Chase's accent was heavy and slurred, but he continued.

"Did you happen to make it…out unscathed, safety man?"

House snorted and brought a hand to his head, massaging his temples gently.

"Why would you think that?"

There was a stretch of silence and House wondered if his underling had passed out when the blonde spoke up again.

"Because evil people tend to make it out of bad situations with little to no harm."

"You hush. I'm a saint. Now let's see about getting out of here - unless, of course, you're that attached to this piece of junk."

"American car…not my fault."

"Everything's your fault. I bet you're the one who rammed the Titanic into that iceberg. Can you move?"

He was rewarded with a mildly steady middle finger.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

Chase grunted an affirmative and began to shift. His face contorted in a grimace and he hissed through his teeth, which were tinged red.

"Uh oh," House sing songed. "Looks like someone might have punctured a lung. Good thing there's an Intensivist nearby."

Chase shot him a dark glare as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, face pale and pinched. He felt along his ribs tenderly and winced several times before sighing and looking back up at House.

"Two broken, one possible fracture."

"And the puncture?"

The Aussie shrugged in indifference. House raised and eyebrow.

"Chase, as much as I'd like to see you drown in your own blood, you should probably show a little more concern. Maybe even take some sort of action to, oh say…prevent yourself from dying in a car with your employer."

"It's superficial. I'll be fine."

"You could be chasing your own head down a hill and you'd tell me you were fine."

The blonde waved his hand dismissively and House pinched the bridge of his nose. He crawled over to one of the windows and tried to roll it down so that they could get out. The glass slid down and a stream of water crept into the car. Chase, who had begun to drift into a daze, gasped as the frigid liquid soaked into his pants. The window rolled down less than halfway until it stopped. House jerked the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

"All of them are like that," Chase told him sullenly.

House turned to him in disbelief.

Chase shrugged helplessly. "It's an old car."

"It's a death trap!"

The Aussie cringed. Neither one of them would make it through the tiny space and House couldn't kick out the glass. Chase doubted very much that he could muster enough strength to do so, either. The driver's side door wasn't even an option, as it had been crushed in.

"Try the passenger's side door," House suggested.

Chase dragged himself painfully to the front of the car and yanked on the handle of the door, pushing against it at the same time. He bit down a groan.

"No good," he stated.

"Death trap!" House called back.

It was a two door car. They were screwed.

To Be Continued

Strengthen limp hands. Steady weak knees. Tell those who are terrified, "Be brave; don't be afraid. Your God will come with a vengeance, with divine revenge. He will come and rescue you. -- Isaiah 35:3-4


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Welcome back. Thank you all so much for the reviews! They make me smile and laugh like an idiot. Also, some of you may be wondering about the title's abstractness. It's derived from the lyrics of a Jimmy Eat World song:_ I'm not alone 'cause the tv's on. I'm not crazy 'cause I take the right pills every day. Salt, sweat - sugar on the asphalt. Our hearts, littering the top soil. _It's also, metaphorically, snow. Normally, when I think of a title, it hits me like a slap in the face and it won't be denied its rightful place as the story's embodiment. On that note, please enjoy chapter two of Sugar On The Asphalt.

p.s. Who can tell me what the hidden joke was in chapter one? Hint: Cartoon comments.

_I'm ranting while I'm raving_

_There's nothing here worth saving_

_Tell me now - what more do you need?_

_Take me to Walter Reed tonight_

_Baby, I've lost the will for fighting _

_Over everything..._

"I h-hate you," an accented voice stated in exhausted vehemence.

"Good, it'll make your death easier to g-get over."

Chase rolled his head in the direction of his boss lazily.

"I'm not going to die."

"You will after I s-strangle the life out of you."

The Aussie snorted and winced. His back was against the side of the car, but he was slumped so far down that only his shoulders and head were supported. Both men were sitting in a shallow puddle of frigid water, shivers beginning to throw off their speech as hypothermia set in. Chase gave his boss a lopsided grin.

"You don't h-have it in you."

House glared at the blonde through narrowed eyes.

"Don't push me. Who t-taught you how to drive, an-anyways?"

Chase shrugged halfheartedly.

"R-right side of the road, left s-side of the road…it's all botched. N-not my fault."

"You d-drove us off a _cliff._ Into a _lake_. In the middle of _January_."

The Intensivist frowned at his superior.

"Maybe if someone hadn't b-been distracting me - or better y-yet - if I hadn't been trying to take you home in the first place, we'd both be in bed, perfectly…"

The Aussie trailed off and House smiled wickedly.

"Perfectly _what_?"

He turned to catch the blush that was no doubt making its way across his duckling's face but was met with closed eyes, limp body slowly sliding down the side of the car.

"Chase!" House gripped the Aussie's shoulders, shaking him roughly. The blonde's eyes opened and he started, sending water droplets into the air while pushing himself up out of the freezing puddle.

House glared at him, eyes shaded with intensity.

"You fall asleep, you die."

Chase nodded numbly, shaking his head to wake himself up and folding his arms over his chest, grimacing as his ribs protested the movement.

"You don't have t-to scare me into staying awake, House. I know h-how hypothermia works."

"And yet, you st-still manage to fall asleep. Congratulations. You're in a class all your own when it comes to b-blatant disregard to your own health."

Chase sent him a tired smile.

"I aim to please."

House rolled his eyes and tried not to think about how true that statement was when it came to his youngest fellow. The kid was the embodiment of what it meant to be a people pleaser.

"I wonder how long it'll t-take for them to find us," the blonde thought out loud.

"Not many people would miss a silver Jetta getting T-boned by a red Toyota and chucked over the s-side of an incline. It won't be long. And by the way, I d-don't care _how_ cold it gets in here - I am _not_ hugging you." House tried to reassure without being reassuring. Chase made a noise that sounded like he agreed, but otherwise remained silent.

House's vision began to blur slightly and his head felt unusually heavy. He blinked a few times, but his eyelids were fighting a losing battle. A sharp jolt in his good leg brought him back to reality. Chase had kicked him.

"Concussion, hypothermia, and still managing to fall asleep. Welcome to the 'class'," the Intensivist said, extremely pleased with himself.

"You have a concussion, too, you moron."

Chase just grinned.

"But notice that I skipped the speech."

House noted the fact that both of them had stopped shivering, which meant that their bodies were slowly shutting down against the cold. He pushed down his concern at the realization, turning his thoughts to how he'd use this to get out of clinic duty.

He ignored the man next to him, who coughed lightly into his hand. Chase pulled his palm away and tilted his head in mild fascination at the red specks. Oddly enough, he wasn't concerned. In fact, he was a little lightheaded. Content, even. He let his hand flop down into the water with a small splash.

House raised his eyebrows in a mixture of bemused frustration as he watched Chase watch the ripples he had made in the water in sheer amazement. The blonde hit the puddle again.

Splish.

Splash. Splash.

Splish.

Splash.

"Would you knock it off?! It's like dealing with a two year old! Find another way to entertain yourself that doesn't involve annoying me until the rescue team gets here. Do you think you can handle that, Robert?"

The Aussie's cheeks flushed crimson in the dark and he cast his eyes downward, wet hair matting his forehead. He looked positively pitiable.

"Sorry, Dad."

House's head snapped toward the blonde, pain flashing through his skull.

"What?"

"I said I was sorry," the younger man's voice was soft.

"The other part, you dolt."

"I said--" Chase's sentence was cut off by a fit of violent coughing. He hunched over, face scrunched up in agony as his ribs grated against one another. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin as he continued to hack into his palms.

House pulled at him.

"Sit up straight."

Chase did as he was told, pushing himself up from his slouched position. The coughing tapered off into wheezing, his lips red. He wiped the blood off his chin with his sleeve.

"Superficial, huh?" House mocked.

"It's fine."

"Define 'fine'."

"Fine means not life threatening."

"At the moment."

Chase shrugged.

House threw his hands in the air, splashing them back down.

"New rule! No more shrugging and no more nifty hand gestures. Oral responses only! Got it?"

The blonde stopped himself mid shrug, opting instead for a mumbled "whatever."

"Good."

"You suck."

"Yea, well. At least I'm not delusional."

"I'm not delusional," Chase snapped indignantly.

"You called me 'dad'."

A flicker of panicked confusion swept through the Intensivist's eyes before he recovered in record time, "I was being sarcastic."

"Sure you were."

The two glared at each other before stubbornly turning their heads in opposite directions. It was quiet for several long minutes before Chase began to wheeze again, his breathing becoming labored. Finally, House turned back to his duckling.

"Deep breaths, you id…Chase?"

The Aussie's eyes were glazed, his head having fallen back and his body tilting heavily to the side.

"Chase! Wake up, you moron! _Chase_!"

He shook the blonde's shoulder, but there was no response. At the same time, several beams of light flashed into the car and House could hear raised voices.

"Hey! We're down here!"

The lights grew larger and the voices grew louder.

"Help is on the way, Wombat. You just do what you do best and hold on."

The only answer he got was the quiet gasping falling from blood stained lips.

To Be Continued

The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger can share its joy...There is a way that seems right to a person, but eventually it ends in death. Even while laughing a heart can ache and joy can end in grief. -- Proverbs 14:10-13


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, my friends. It's been an unbelievable amount of fun and I've had a great time writing this piece. I'm so grateful for all of your reviews, which really encourage me to continue writing. Alas, all things must come to an end. And so, here is the final chapter of Sugar On The Asphalt. God and Peace.

RainyDayz

… … … … … …

_Well, there's a few things I gotta say_

_Make no mistake, I'm mad_

'_Cause every good thing I've had_

_Abandoned me_

… …… … … … …

House shifted awkwardly in the world's most uncomfortable hospital chair, muttering oaths under his breath as he turned up the volume on his Gameboy. He glanced at the figure in the bed and then back to the screen. The beeping of the heart monitor was distracting him. His avatar had already died twice. His brow furrowed in concentration.

… … … … … … …

_All I want to do is hide_

_It's graduation day_

_Everything I learned inside_

_Didn't seem to pay_

… … … … … … …

He'd had to take off his jacket and lay it over the oblivious Aussie's upper body when the firefighter told him that they were going to break in the windshield. The glass shattered inward, scattering everywhere and splashing quietly into the water as House used his arm to guard his eyes.

… … … … … …

_I've had my fill of palm trees_

_And lighting up Grauman's Chinese_

_So, tell me now - what more do you need?__  
Take me to Walter Reed tonight_

_Baby, I've lost the will for fighting _

_Over everything_

… … … … … …

The diagnostician darted his eyes back to the hospital bed. The blonde shifted lethargically, mumbling incoherently. His head turned and he sighed softly, but he didn't wake up. House "hmphed" and went back to his video game.

… … … … … …

_There's a few things I gotta say_

_Make no mistake, I'm mad_

'_Cause every good thing I've had_

_Abandoned me_

_A sad and lonesome me._

… … … … … …

He had stayed out of the way, only grabbing Chase's legs and lifting them as the paramedics gently dragged the Aussie through the windshield. They hefted him onto a gurney and secured him, loading him into the ambulance. House crawled out after them and was met with an unappreciated helping hand.

"Sir, we need to take a look at you. Your head is bleeding and you're limping. Your leg may have been injured in the accident and you might have a concussion."

House rolled his eyes and sent the paramedic a withering glare.

"Who hired you people? Dr. Phil? Beat it."

He brushed passed him and stepped into the ambulance. He argued with the paramedics all the way to the hospital, slapping at their hands when they tried to assess his injuries, all the while keeping an eye on his prone duckling. When they arrived, he let them take Chase to the ER and hobbled into Wilson's office to get fixed up.

House would have given anything for a camera to capture the look on the Oncologist's face when he walked through the door.

"What did you _do_? And where's your cane?"

"I'll tell you if you slap a band aid on me and give me a lollipop."

Wilson grabbed his medical kit and motioned for his friend to sit on the couch.

"What happened?"

"Car accident."

"You got into an accident on your bike and made it out looking this good?"

House shifted, "No. Chase's car."

Wilson stared at him, puzzled, as he dabbed the diagnostician's cut with an alcohol drenched gauze pad and shined a penlight in his eyes.

"Why were you driving Chase's car?"

House would have smacked his forehead in frustration, but it was already hurting.

"You moron. He was giving me a ride home."

The Oncologist's eyes widened in concern.

"Is he all right?"

"He's in the ER."

"Damn…"

"Well said, Jimmy."

… … … … … …

_I'm the walking wounded_

_I'd say it to your face_

_But I can't find my place_

_So, tell me now - what more do you need?_

… … … … … …

Aside from the broken ribs puncturing his lungs and the concussion, Chase had only suffered minor cuts and bruises. House shook his head in disbelief at the Aussie's luck. He hadn't even been wearing his seatbelt. Statistics showed that he should have been thrown clear out of the vehicle. Of course, his team ate statistics for breakfast and logic for lunch.

He'd had Chase moved to a private room after he'd gotten out of surgery. He dreaded the moment Cameron would find out about all of this. There would be teddy bears and festive balloons everywhere proclaiming "Get Well Soon!" He almost gagged at the thought, but he did look forward to some sort of basket filled with sugary treats.

… … … … … …

_Take me to Walter Reed tonight_

_Baby, I've lost the will for fighting_

_Over everything_

_There's a few things I gotta say_

_Make no mistake, I'm mad_

… … … … … …

The first thing Chase noticed was that he was finally warm. His brain was muddled from all the pain killers and for a moment he thought he was back in Melbourne.

_Lord knows Jersey is never this warm…_

He risked opening his eyes and found himself staring into the scruffy face of one Dr. House. He closed them again, groaning.

"Oh, God. I'm dead, aren't I? I'm dead and I've gone to hell. Either that, or we're still stuck in that stupid car and I'm in the process of dying…"

"Shut up, you whiner. Do you always complain this much? Wait, stupid question. Of course you do. You're _you_."

"Go awaaaay," came the plaintive moan.

"Can't. I have to make sure you don't kick off when I'm not watching. Plus, after our time together, I'd be lonely without you."

Chase reluctantly opened his eyes again.

"This is definitely hell."

House played with the IV line and grinned wickedly.

"Nonsense! Hell is having a runny nose in a room full of soggy tissues."

"House, let go of my IV."

"Oh, dear. Addicted to pain killers already?"

"No, I just don't want you injecting me with some sort of heavy metal."

"Dr. Chase -- I would never!"

The blonde Intensivist rolled his eyes and coughed, wincing at the hot stab of pain in his chest, breath hitching. House caught the tiny movement and frowned. He caned his way over to a drawer and pulled out a syringe. He limped back to the bed and grabbed the IV line. Chase eyed him suspiciously.

"Poisoning me already? What are you doing?" His accent was thick with exhaustion.

"I'm sending you back to LaLaLand so I don't have to put up with your constant whining."

"Leave it alone, House. I don't need--"

"Quiet. This is a delicate procedure."

"I said I don't need it. You just want to shut me up. This is stupid -- you're stupid… 'n who bloody paints a hospital room this color?.. 's gonna burn someone's retinas right out their heads…"

House fought the urge to smile at his duckling's obviously drug induced ramblings as the Aussie trailed off, eyes fluttering closed as the syringe's contents were emptied into his IV line.

The diagnostician tossed the needle into a receptacle and settled back down into the plastic chair. He turned his Gameboy back on and propped his feet up on Chase's hospital bed.

A few minutes later, Wilson popped his head through the doorway.

"Hey. Has he woken up yet?"

House didn't look up from the screen in his lap.

"Nope."

"Hmm. Make sure to let me know when he does."

"Uh huh."

"'Night, House."

"See ya, Jimmy."

Wilson closed the door, waited several seconds, and then peered through the glass. From where he was positioned, he could see that the avatar on House's Gameboy was dead, large bold letters flashing across the screen : GAME OVER. But the diagnostician didn't seem to be paying much attention to his video game.

The Oncologist smiled, shaking his head and making his way back to his office. He would have to bring Chase a get well fruit basket of some sort.

_'Cause everything good thing I've had_

_Abondoned me._

_A sad and lonesome me..._

END

… … … … … … …

May the words from my mouth and the thoughts from my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my defender. -- Psalms 19:14


End file.
